


J: Jump

by brokxnharry



Series: Teen Wolf A-Z Challenge (with songs) [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Hellhounds, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Scott is a Good Friend, Sterek sort of, Stiles Stilinski Saves The Day, but derek saves him first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: A hellhound is chasing after them, but Derek is too weak to make the jump. Stiles promises that he'd catch him. And he does.





	J: Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Joy I call life - Sia

His feet ached, chest burned, bile climbed his throat, clawed at his cords, pushed against the air he tried to take in. Derek leaned into him, strangled breaths pierced through him, it sounded like he was gargling on his own blood, like his lungs allowed only small puffs of air, unable to bear the weight of much more. Stiles felt Derek's blood seeping through his shirt, felt the warmth of his bones, as they tensed and released, every time the pain flared.

They heard the sound of steps following, felt the threatening heat of the hellhound following them, almost in preparation, because they'd burn and burn, and the fire would never run out, and it would only hurt more, with every patch of skin it'd touch against, with every layer it'd tear out of them. They didn't know where they were going, could barely stop to think, to rationalize. They were fueled by instinct, by the desperate need to flee, to survive. But they were running out of land, and Derek's body grew heavier, his eyes taking too long to open, every time he blinked. The scent of blood was coating Stiles' senses, teasing his gag reflexes, but he swallowed it down, piled it away, till they were out, till they were safe, or he could no longer take much more.

" Is he still there? Can you feel him?" Stiles breathed out, wishing he could turn to look at Derek, to see if his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, or something worse, to try to smile, pour something of comfort into this almost impossible situation. Derek groaned, tripped, almost wanting to fall, to just be left there, until his body didn't feel like it was imploding, like it was tearing apart. But Stiles held on tighter, pulled him closer, breathed heavier, and Derek almost whined in gratitude.

" Yeah. He's close. I- oh fuck- I can hear him. Smell him."

" Okay. It's okay. We're getting out of here soon. It'll be okay."

Stiles' words almost died against his tongue, almost ran back down, to where they'd never be spoken, never be heard. They stopped, the ground falling away beneath them, like they reached the end of the world, like there was no more space for them to cover, no place for them to go. They stood at the edge of a hill, separated from another hill by a great area of nothing but rocks and shatters and an unkind fall. Like the earth had cracked wide open, and waited for them to jump over the edge of it.

Derek dropped to his knees, spitting out what seemed to be blood, that was too dark for it to be healthy. Stiles looked away, gagging, breathing, before he could fall next to Derek, a hand on his back, in silent consolation. This had happened because of Stiles. Because that hellhound had come for him, flipping his Jeep, and throwing it off the road, like it had been nothing. Like Stiles hadn't counted at all, hadn't mattered. Derek had come out of nowhere, getting him out of the wreck that had been his car, before the hellhound had come for him too. Derek had stood his ground for a while, fighting with all he had had in him, but the hellhound had put his claws right through his chest, almost tearing him in two perfect halves. And when he'd tried to pull back, to pull away, he'd left one of his claws in Derek's gut, sticking out of him like a nail that had been put through a wall, but not quite. And then Stiles had held onto him, and they had started running.

" I know this probably sucks, Derek, but we need to keep going. We can't stop now."

" Can't. I- I can't. You go. Stiles, you," Derek had his elbows against the ground, trying to hold anything of himself up, but nothing was healing, and every time he tried to breathe, it felt like the hellhound had its claws between Derek's ribs, cracking his chest right open, waiting for it to fall back together, only to do it again, and again.

" No way, I'm not leaving you. We're doing this together."

" Stiles," Derek roared, or cried, he couldn't really tell, but his eyes were flashing somewhere between red and gold-ish green, like he couldn't properly shift, but couldn't remain all human either. Like he was losing all control.

" We'll do this **_together_** , Derek. Or not at all." Stiles held the hand he had on Derek's back down, reminding him that he was right there with him, anchoring him, or grounding him, or just giving him something else to marvel upon, other than the excruciating pain.

Derek pushed against the ground, feeling like his back was breaking and reforming, sensing his heart, beating against his chest, almost pushing the foreign claw out. Derek tried to breathe, past the scent of Stiles' blood, dissolving into his own, past the fear and the worry and the clouding sense of doom. He looked down upon his chest, inhaling, barely able to do even that, before he put his hand to that claw, and dragged it out, through the cowering flesh, and the fundamentals of his cells that he felt breaking apart with the force of his pull. He howled, without really meaning to, collapsing back onto himself, but Stiles caught him, bringing him against his chest instead. Derek allowed himself that fleeting moment of self-pity, of weakness, before he nodded against the steady chest beneath him, willing himself away from the comfort of it. Of Stiles.

" I'm going to give you a push. Once you're on the other side, I'll make the jump." Derek tried to stand, but his knees would barely lift off the ground, before buckling again. He shook his head to himself, squeezing his eyes shut, to not completely lose his shit.

" But Derek, you're injured, and, maybe you should go first, I can probably start with a run, and I'll be able to make it on my own."

" No, you're hurt too. I just need a minute. Come on, Stiles, we don't have much time." Stiles looked at him, like he'd stay there, lay on the ground, and wait for whatever was coming, if he really asked him too. Derek tried to will his features to fall into something that was reassuring, that was encouraging, but the hellhound was getting closer, and he couldn't get there with Stiles so incredibly reachable. So vulnerable and raw. So Derek took Stiles' arm, turning him so that he'd face away from Derek, and towards where he'd fall.

" Okay, I'm ready." Stiles nodded, angling one leg behind the other, making a leap, as Derek threw him away, with all he had left in him, collapsing back onto his elbows, before Stiles had even hit the ground.

Stiles ended up on his stomach, sliding till the ruthless surface eased him into a halt. He didn't bother with the cuts he could feel opening up through his skin, didn't pay attention to the spinning of his concussed head, and how the nausea was almost blinding now. He groaned, crawling, till he could stand himself up, blurring eyes searching for Derek, awaiting his approach, that never really came.

" Derek, come on, your turn. You just need to make the jump, then we'll call someone to come get us. We're almost out, we're almost there." Stiles smiled, breathless and tired down to his bones. Derek looked up, eyes no longer anything other than a greenish brown, dimmed down by the almost starless night, along with the pain that wouldn't let up. Derek was mouthing something that looked like _"I'm sorry"_ , eyes filling up with tears that Stiles had never seen on him before, had never thought someone as strong as Derek, could be demolished to something so sad looking.

" What are you doing, Derek? He's coming. You need to keep moving, come on."

" It's too wide. I can't do it. You need to get out of here, call someone. I'll hold him back for as long as I can."

" **_No_** , Derek, I'm not fucking leaving you. Just- just jump, okay? I'll catch you. We'll call Scott and he'll come get us. Just come on, please, he's going to kill you." Stiles leaned so close to the edge, he almost fell. Eyes shedding tears like that would help him see better, help clear the haziness away. Derek pulled out, wanting to keep Stiles away from the edge, push him as far away from this as he possibly could. But Stiles' eyes moved away from him, widening so much, that Derek could detect all the shades of browns in there.

Derek turned away, watching as the trees seemed to cower, to melt under the brutal energy surrounding the hellhound. Derek couldn't stay down, couldn't play dead, and wait for him to go after Stiles. He pushed against the ground, his figure staggering, swaying, like the mere wind could send it flying away.

" Go, Stiles." He said under his breath, waving away, without tilting towards Stiles, in fear of it hurting too much, to watch him leave, run to someone that wasn't him.

" I'm not going anywhere, Derek. You need to trust me. Please. I'll catch you. I promise I will. Just jump. Fucking jump, Derek, or I will jump right back there, I don't fucking care. I'm not letting you fight him alone. I'm not leaving you behind." Derek closed his eyes around the truthfulness filling the air, blanketing him with something so calming, so fulfilling, that he'd forgotten how it had once felt. He didn't have to look at Stiles to know what he'd see in his eyes, in every twitch of his muscles, that seemed to be aching for Derek.

The hellhound's steps were certain, steady, like he knew that doom was inevitable and there was no escaping him. Derek turned to Stiles, following his lips as they moved into a continuous mantra of _"jump, Derek, jump"_. And he did, throwing himself off the edge, barely missing the hellhound's claws, as they brushed against his back. He pulled his arms out, spread them away, but the ground seemed to be shying away from him, leaning further and further away from his grasp. He thought he missed it. Almost let himself fall, before he felt a grip somewhere between his fingers, a fierce tug, that sent his body, colliding into the rough edges of the hill.

He breathed out, as shakily as everything else about him was. He looked up, and Stiles was there, angled downwards so aggressively, Derek could have thought he was falling too. But he smiled, despite the sweat beading against his forehead, dissolving into the blood, that had barely stopped seeping through. Derek could smell the reeking pain, the desperation lacing everything about Stiles. He could hear the blood pulsing beneath his skin, hitting more harshly against what hurt him most.

" Told you- I told you I would catch you." Stiles forced out, his breathing labored, fading with the exerted effort of holding Derek's weight, stopping both their bodies from dropping.

" Okay. Okay, Derek, I need to get my phone out of my pocket, to call Scott. I'll take one hand away, but you keep both your hands on mine, okay? Don't let go." Stiles pleaded, hiding it behind a shield of fading authority. Derek tried to nod, without stirring them too much. Derek could feel the bones in Stiles' arm, cracking with the pressure, that he tried to release, one pant at a time.

Derek tried to focus on that, instead of the blood pooling in his chest, painting the rocks around them an angry shade of red. His lungs seemed to be filling up with blood, instead of air, trying to hold onto it, keep it inside his body, instead of letting it all drain out of him. There was a sweat drop, carefully sliding against his brows, adding to the itch in his nose, that was trying to expel the scent of blood and anxiety and hurt. So much fucking hurt. But then, something clicked, sounding like it was breaking, disconnecting. Stiles screamed, and it was the worst sound Derek had ever heard, surrounded by the sound of his erratic heart, unable to find a rhythm that wouldn't feel like it was shattering, tearing around its seams.

" Oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit. Scott, **_hurry_**." Stiles sounded like he was crying. Like he had been crying, and his throat was scratched, and his nose was blocked, and his lungs weren't working quite right. Derek tried to climb up, tried to let go, because he was hurting Stiles. He was breaking his body apart. And it wasn't worth it.

" Derek, stop, stop, stop. Please. It makes it worse. Fuck. I need you to put most of your weight on my other arm, can you do that? **_Fuck_** , that hurts." Stiles sniffled, wiping his face against his sleeve, like that would take any of it away. Derek tried to do as he was told, but he was slipping, and Stiles didn't know how to not hold on so tight, even with his now dislocated shoulder, the loose bone now straying further away, tearing at the surrounding ligaments.

" Okay. Just stay there. Hold on. Scott is coming. And probably Isaac too. And-"

" Stiles, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Fuck, just let me go. I'll probably fall against something before hitting the ground. I'll heal. But, you. Your body is falling apart, Stiles. You can't hold us both here."

" Yes, I can. I can. But you have to help me. I won't let go, Derek. I won't. So, just. Hold my hands as tight as you can. We'll be okay. Everything is going to be just fine."

Derek buried his head somewhere between his extended arms, choking on something resembling a cry, because his chest was torn to shreds, and he could feel the ground beneath him, slipping further away, and Stiles was in so much pain, but still wouldn't let go, and Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd clung so desperately to someone, since the last of his family went away.

He didn't know how long it had been, but Stiles' whispered words faded into weak gasps for air, too worn down by pain to even curse the luck that had led him there tonight. Had led the hellhound to him. The scent of his pain that was bordering on pure, raw, agony, threaded itself through Derek's lungs, filled up all the empty space in his chest. It stayed there, didn't go anyway, no matter how profusely he still bled everything else out. He thought, if he could get his claws out, he'd just pierce Stiles' skin, hurt him just enough to let go, but then someone was calling Stiles' name, and he was whimpering into the night.

" Get him. Scott, get Derek first. I'm okay, I'm okay, just." Scott appeared over the edge, along with Isaac, just like Stiles had promised. Scott took one of Derek's arms, Isaac held the other, and then he was pulled up, over the edge, falling onto his back, baring his chest to the world, daring it to take another dig, to claw something else out.

Stiles crawled away, feeling like his heavied head could ease into the tug of gravity, and just take him away. He held a hand to his arm that had fallen away from where it was supposed to click, eyes squeezed shut, lungs still gripped by anxiety or pain or something else completely.

" Shit, Stiles, we need to get you to the hospital." Scott leaned down, tried to move Stiles, but he held a hand in the air, trying to scurry away, which sent a jolt of blinding ache through him, and this time, he did cry. Derek could hear it, could smell it, and he almost cried too.

" What do you need, Stiles?" Scott fell onto his knees, as close as he could get to his friend, without disturbing anything that Stiles was desperately trying to calm. He put a hand to Stiles' forehead, trying to leech out some of his pain, but the warmth felt like the hellhound approaching, and Stiles' features fell into something like disgust, like fear.

" I can't **_move_**." Stiles cried out, his arm trying to come up, cover his face away, but the rest of his body was still connected, and every time something moved, something else hurt, and he felt like he was coming apart, like his bones were broken off him, one at a time.

" I can carry you. I have mum's car. I'll take you to the hospital, and drive Derek and Isaac back to the loft. Whatever you need, Stiles." Stiles breathed out, the air cracked and trembling, as he tried to nod past the stubborn ache spreading through his head. He opened his eyes, taking in his friend's figure, that was so close, it could be shielding him from the world, blanketing him with safety and reassurance and familiarity. Stiles tried to smile, didn’t know if it worked or not, but Scott returned it anyway, his smile vibrant and lively and joyful, just like Stiles had always remembered it.

" How is Derek? Is he okay?" Stiles nudged his head where he thought Derek laid, feeling like he could fall asleep, now that he was almost losing feeling in his body. He blamed it on the black veins still crawling up his friend's arms. Scott looked behind him, his face almost falling, before he looked back at Stiles, with something like sympathy in his eyes. Could also be bewilderment.

" We need to get him home too. His healing is pretty slow, and he lost a lot of blood. Should be fine, though. You did good, Stiles. Really good." Stiles thought he nodded, feeling the earth disappearing beneath him, replaced by his friend's chest, the pulsing of his steady heartbeat, and the hands that never meant any harm. Isaac took what he could of Derek's pain, helping him to his feet, where he swayed, almost fell again, but Isaac caught him, like Stiles once had, as they all walked out of the woods, to Melissa's car.

Derek watched Stiles, head hitting against the window, every time Scott fell into a bump in the road. He could almost hear the crack in his skull, widening. Could still hear the sound of his bones, breaking. He tried to take his hands, that were covered in Derek's blood, he could no longer find his skin. He wanted to take some of his pain, wanting to ease the scent that was tightening around his throat, overwhelming and angry and still so incredibly present. But Derek's hands were trembling, no black veins willing to appear, and he feared he'd pour some of his own pain out, instead. So he let go.

Scott took them to Stiles' house. The sheriff ran out, almost collapsing somewhere near his son, opening the door, and taking Stiles' face into his hands. Stiles' face crumbled, though his eyes remained unseeing, but the motion had stirred the aching that was almost everywhere now. Isaac tried to absorb some of it, carrying Stiles into the house, while Scott explained what he knew of what had happened, letting Derek rest somewhere that was so far away from where Stiles had previously laid. He needed to get away from the scent, from the warmth he'd left behind, like he was still touched by that hellhound.

" Derek, are you okay? That looks quite serious." The sheriff questioned, eyebrows furrowed, hand somewhere through his hair, trying not to pull too hard. Derek tried to open his mouth, tried to push any words out that didn't sound like cries, or screams, or pathetic apologies that would never fix anything, would never take any of it away.

" I-"

" Derek got there to help Stiles when that hellhound wrecked his car. I don't even know what would have happened if Stiles was alone." Scott shook his head, like he was trying to jumble his thoughts, let something else resurface, that wasn't Stiles torn to shreds somewhere.

" Is that so?" The sheriff stared at Derek, eyes filled with fear, that was masked by relief, or gratitude, or something else that Derek couldn't quite understand. Could barely see, past the tears and the blood and the bones that wouldn't stop fucking breaking.

" I told him to let go, sheriff. I- fuck, I'm so sorry. He wouldn't listen. Never really listened to me, and the hellhound was- he kept coming and these wounds, they just- my body gave out, and he wouldn't leave, wouldn't get himself out, or,"

" Hey, hey, Derek, slow down. It's okay. You saved him. You got him out."

" He got **_hurt_**." Derek didn't mean to, he really, really, didn't, but he hid his face somewhere in his hands, that reeked of Stiles' agony, and he almost threw up, almost tore his arm right off, but his head moved from his hands, falling into a chest, and arms were around him, and he just.. fell apart. The crack in his chest, letting things out, more than just blood and gore.

" It's not your fault, son. You got him out. You almost died for him. Don't think he'd do anything less for you."

It'd been so long since Derek had been someone's son, since someone had done something for him, had given something up, only because they'd thought he'd needed it. He just cried some more.

Deaton was there, working on Stiles, before Derek fell somewhere beside him, pulling a hand out, trying to hold onto something, trying to find a scent in him, that wouldn't reek of something horrible. And when he closed his eyes, when they closed on their own, without him ever meaning for them to, it took him a day to blink the darkness away. He was in Stiles' bed. It smelled of him. And now, it somewhat smelled of Derek too. He didn't really know how to feel about that, didn't really have time to, because he heard a heartbeat that sounded like coming home, and he felt a hand that was so kind in its warmth, so tender in its touch, and he tilted his head somewhere to the side, and Stiles was right there, his arm in a brace or a cast, lifted by a sling. His head was bandaged but not terribly so. And he still smelled of pain, although it was subtle now, not nearly as ruthless as it once had been.

Derek tried to move. Tried to pull away or get back or fall away or just- put some distance between them, to keep him safe, and also, take a better look at him. A look that wasn't fogged up by the scent of Stiles that was so familiar, he almost didn't need to seek it out anymore. A look that wasn't dazed by the smile he was trying to give him, or how his eyes were bright, despite the tiredness almost leaving them half-shut. But Stiles put his leg over Derek's, tried to move his good arm, but it was connected to his bad arm, and it still hurt like a bitch, so he just ended up leaning into Derek, almost falling onto him, and Derek lost all will to push away.

" Stop moving, will you? At least till I can do something about it."

Derek thought he heard something snapping back into place, thought it was a bone in Stiles, but it was something in him. So, he nodded, his head falling onto Stiles', his arms around him. And he pretended that this was him, catching Stiles instead.


End file.
